


Last Christmas

by NephilimEQ



Series: Christmas Medley [2]
Category: Psych
Genre: Christmas gift, Gay Love, Humor, I wrote all these stories in a day and a half, Love Confessions, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, cute couple fighting, so many gay ships, they are so totally married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 05:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NephilimEQ/pseuds/NephilimEQ
Summary: Shawn didn’t exactly have the best track record for presents. The last few Christmases had been disasters…not that he’d ever tell him that. Despite the callous attitude he had, Carlton knew better than to insult any present given to him, which was why he’d never had the heart to break it to his boyfriend that he was the worst at picking out presents.





	Last Christmas

****

 

** Last Christmas **

Shawn thundered down the stairs, and Lassiter growled, more than yelled down at him, “It’s five in the morning, Spencer! I am _not_ getting up this early!”

He could practically _hear_ Shawn pouting up at him from the bottom of the stairs.

“But, Lassi, it’s Christmas!”

As much as he wanted to throw a pillow over his head and ignore his boyfriend’s childish plea, he reluctantly dragged himself out from underneath the covers. It was Christmas, after all. He could sleep later for as long as he wanted, anyways.

Not looking, he pulled on a t-shirt over his head as he left the room, but was confused at how tight it was and squinted down at it as he reached the top of the stairs. Oh. It was one of Shawn’s. He thought about going back and changing shirts, but decided it would be too much effort, and left it on, trying in vain to keep his eyes open as he plodded down the stairs.

It was nice of Henry to have sold them the house, but at the same time it was slightly weird to be living in the same house that Shawn had grown up in.

He emerged into the living room to find Spencer already at the base of the tree, looking as eager as an eight-year-old, bright eyed and all hands as he dug through the presents to grab a brightly wrapped gold box and shoved it in Carlton’s direction.

“Here, this one’s for you,” he said, giving him one of his effortless smiles.

Lassiter took it cautiously. Shawn didn’t exactly have the best track record for presents. The last few Christmases had been disasters…not that he’d ever tell _him_ that. Despite the callous attitude he had, Carlton knew better than to insult any present given to him, which was why he’d never had the heart to break it to his boyfriend that he was the _worst_ at picking out presents.

He put it to the side and grabbed the green and red wrapped present that he’d bought for Shawn and handed it to him.

“This one’s yours.”

“Oooh!” Shawn spouted. “Wanna open at the same time?”

Carlton reluctantly nodded, absolutely dreading to open his, knowing it was going to be _exactly_ like the year before, and carefully unwrapped the present, sliding his fingers firmly under the taped seams, taking care not to rip the paper, unlike Shawn who started tearing at it from the middle like an overgrown child. Which he was.

They both got to their presents at around the same time, and, for once, the detective was rendered speechless by the gift in front of him.

He turned the thick volume around in his hands, marveling at the dark brown, pressed leather and the embossed gold lettering on the cover. It was a book that he was familiar with and actually owned, but he had never seen it so lavishly published. He looked at the inside of the front cover and found a handwritten note on a small piece of paper in the fake psychic’s handwriting.

_Carlton, I know that this part of history is important to you, so here’s a piece of it. I know it wasn’t on your list, but I had a psychic premonition that you’re going to enjoy it immensely. This was the nicest copy that I could find. If you want to read any of it to me, feel free, but know I will fall asleep if you do. I had to sell a lot of box tops to get this for you, but you were worth every single stomach cramp. With love, Shawn._

It was ridiculous, it was heartfelt, it was slightly annoying…it was Shawn.

Lassiter took another look at the title, running his fingers over the letters. “Personal Memoirs and Selected Letters of U.S. Grant, 1839-1865.” How the hell had he found it in leather hardback? He’d only ever come across it in textbook hardback; formal and stiff blue cover, with white and red lettering. This was…astounding.

He finally looked up from it and saw Spencer looking at his own gift.

Carlton had deliberated for _weeks_ trying to figure what to get the man who seemed to be happy with practically anything. And then had come to one conclusion.

Shawn lifted the limited-edition boxset of all the seasons of The Dukes of Hazzard in his hands and said, “How’d you know, Lassi?”

The older man snorted.

“You’ve only been telling me that you wanted it for the past six months, Shawn. Easy to figure out, but I’m not gonna lie: it wasn’t exactly easy to get my hands on. Oh, and I’m not watching it with you,” he quickly added, making sure he wasn’t going to be dragged into a Christmas Day marathon that he was certain the younger man was going to start as soon as they had breakfast.

Shawn nodded, grinned like an idiot as he stared at the box for a moment longer, and then gently prodded, “Uh, do you like yours, Lassi?”

He nodded.

“Yes, I do. It’s perfect.” He ran a finger down the spine of the book, and then softly said, “How’d you know?”

Spencer shrugged.

“Oh, you know, I am psychic, after all,” he said flippantly, but then saw his boyfriend’s arched eyebrow, and his tone sobered and he answered, “I saw your old copy and how much you read it, and thought you might like something a bit…nicer. I mean, it wasn’t exactly my best present ever, not compared to two Christmases ago, but I did my best--”

“Yes, it is,” Carlton interrupted him. “Do you not _remember_ what you gave me two years ago?”

Shawn grinned.

“How could I forget, Lassi? It was the best pineapple cookbook to ever be written, “Let’s Eat Pineapple!” by the illustrious and, dare I say it, visionary, Martha Stone.” He sat there looking proud of himself, while the head detective marveled at the fact that the man was so immensely brilliant, and yet blindingly dumb at the same time. Spencer then said, “I think it was one of my best gifts, yet. Man, I’ve enjoyed that cookbook,” he mused out loud.

Lassiter exploded.

“Are you kidding me? Shawn, the last four Christmases have been disastrous!” His boyfriend gave him a confused and slightly hurt look, but Lassiter continued, explaining in detail how they had gone wrong. “Our first year together, you got me Thundercat figurines.” Shawn smiled and replied, “But of course, Lassi! It’s essential for beginner collectors!”

Carlton groaned and continued with, “Our _second_ Christmas, you gave me a gift certificate for a _carwash._ ” Shawn’s smile faltered slightly. “And last Christmas, _last_ Christmas,” he emphasized, “You got me a set of nerf guns. Nerf guns! I love you, Shawn, but you cannot pick out presents!”

As his voice trailed, the younger man gave him a look, and then said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I was saving my money…”

 Now the detective was confused.

“What? Saving your money for what?”

Shawn nodded at the book in Lassiter’s hand.

“For this year.” The older man paused, and Shawn continued. “I, uh…I had to do a custom order, and they said it would take a while to do and it would cost, well, a _lot_ , so I saved up,” he finished softly, looking back down at his hands, not looking his boyfriend in the eye, and a wave of regret washed over Carlton at his harsh accusation. “I put the order in last Christmas,” he added, and the last of Carlton’s irritation faded completely as his words.

God, he’d just been saving up for…now, he felt rather horrible for yelling at him.

He looked back at him and said apologetically, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

Spencer shrugged.

“Eh, it’s not that big a deal. I mean, I get it. Yeah, I suck at presents like, eighty-one-point six percent of the time,” he randomly threw out, “But, according to Henry, I get it right once every few years or so. He says I get it from him, so it’s not like he can get upset about it. I just…I _really_ wanted to get this one right. I mean, I did, right?”

Carlton gave him a soft look and swallowed.

“Yeah. You did.” He looked back down at the leather-bound book and then reached over for his boyfriend’s hand and reassuringly said, “This…this is good, Shawn. It’s…it’s better than good. You did great.”

They sat like that for a moment longer, and then the silence was broken with Spencer lunging over and planting a sloppy, wet kiss on Carlton’s lips. Annoyed, but also happy to have the affection, the older man took control of the kiss and they both took their time enjoying it. After a few moments, their kisses slowed into long, drawn out brushes of their lips, not quite lingering, and then Shawn finally pulled back.

“Merry Christmas, Carlton,” he said, his words ringing with sincerity.

Carlton smiled.

“Merry Christmas, Shawn.”

They sat there for a long time, their knees touching, until Spencer suddenly shot up and bolted to the couch, yelling, “Dukes of Hazzard marathon! You know that’s right!”, and Lassiter rolled his eyes. Some things never changed.

 

 


End file.
